When Hailey crashes a Half-Life
after party, she expects to find the bastard who knocked up her little sister.
Instead she meets the sexy front-man who agrees to give her access to his crew
if she gives him access to her body.

All Lock demands in return is
three days of complete control over the Sunday School teacher. With a contract,
because he’s been
burned before. One misstep could send the band—and
his tenuous sobriety—up in flames.

Hailey and Lock push each other’s
limits… Against the penthouse window. Backstage. In the limo
and on the elevator. But as the contract counts down, neither are ready for the
party to end.

Author links:

Amber Lin

Amber Lin writes erotic romance
with damaged souls and deep emotion.

Her debut novel, Giving It Up,
received The Romance Review’s Top Pick, Night Owl Top Pick, and 5 Blue Ribbons
from Romance Junkies. RT Book Reviews gave it 4.5 stars, calling it “truly extraordinary.” She
has been published by Loose Id, Carina Press, and Entangled.

Amber married her high school
sweetheart, birthed a kid who’s smarter than she is, and spends her nights writing
down her dirty thoughts. In other words, life is good.

Shari Slade is a snarky optimist.
A would-be academic with big dreams and very little means. When she isn’t toiling away in the non-profit
sector, she’s
writing gritty stories about identity and people who make terrible choices in
the name of love (or lust). Somehow, it all works out in the end. If she had a
patronus it would be a platypus.

Hailey forced herself to stand
still for his leisurely perusal. Even when he stood and stalked toward her, she
managed to hold on to her dignity—whatever
dregs she had left after donning these clothes and almost falling on her face.
But his smile hit her like a blast of heat, blinding her, scalding her. He
looked far too pleased with himself, like a man about to get everything he
wanted. And her shaky insides warned she might just give it to him.

“What do you mean?” she
asked, proud her voice didn’t quaver too much.

“You want to stay here while we’re in Chicago,” he
said. “To stay here for three days, to blend in so that no
one questions why you’re here.
To ask questions, poke around.”

Yes, that was exactly what she
wanted. So why did her nod feel like surrender? As if she’d agreed to his terms before she even knew them. But
then maybe she did know what his terms would be. His eyes spoke the words his
lips had yet to say. There were volumes of gold-flecked pages filled with all
that sensual knowledge. They promised delight and, even better, a hard bite to
the exchange. Where the men she had been with were a fresh spring breeze, he
stood before her like the calm before the storm, his eyes darkening clouds.

“Can you…” She
licked her lips. His gaze tracked the movement, making her feel hunted. “Can you help me?”

His expression softened. Just the
slightest degree, but it was enough to slow the hammering of her heart. This
was the same kind man she’d met in the lobby. Desire had given him a rough edge,
turning his loping gait into a prowl, making his nostrils flare—scenting her. But he was still kind inside.

When he didn’t answer, she searched for whatever strength she might
have found. You want… he’d said, listing her terms. Only his terms were left to
be stated. A negotiation, then. But even as she thought the words, an image
flashed through her mind, a gazelle caught from behind, the vicious beauty of
her captor feasting in a National Geographic special.

“What do you want?” she
whispered, and somehow the wall was at her back. He was at her front…crowding her…embracing
her?

“You,” he snarled. “Under me. Over me. On your knees in front of me. I get
full artistic license to your body for three days.”

His words pounded her like hail,
leaving dents and then pooling in the hollows left behind. They drowned out the
rest of the world and shook the floor. She began to shake too—but her gaze remained locked with his. The shaking was
on the inside, fear and a strange longing warring inside her, a battle to the
death. She stood frozen, caught in his sights and too terrified to run. Too
curious to walk away.

He stepped back, sending a wash of
crisp hotel air over her body. She sucked in a breath and immediately missed
the earthy scent of him.

“And you,” he
continued conversationally, “will have total access to
play Nancy Drew in the hotel. That is, whenever I’m not using you.”

Her body lit up when he said the
word using. It imploded on you, spoken with such self-assured possession. What
was wrong with her that she wanted to be used? Maybe because she wanted to be
free to enjoy sex, to really explore it, for the first time in her tame little
life. Maybe because he would be the one using her, and he seemed like he would
know just what to do with her.

This was a bad idea. For reasons
that weren’t quite
coming to her at the moment. But she knew it was bad. If she’d said it once, she’d said it a thousand times to her
preschoolers: don’t make
decisions when you’re
angry. Though she wasn’t angry.
She was concerned. And frustrated. And…

God, Chloe, why? After I worked so
freaking hard so you could start college, why couldn’t you be more careful?

Okay, she might be angry.

She swallowed. So maybe this
weekend could be for her too. She would find the baby’s father, but she’d also find something for herself.

With a deep breath, she struggled
for levity. A lopsided tilt of her lips was all she could manage. “Where do I sign?” she
joked.

His grin widened, revealing an
even row of white teeth. The Cheshire cat had just such a smile. “I’m so glad you asked. I have blank copies of my
contract in the side table. Right next to the lube.”